A Christmas Carol
by Crookshanks.x
Summary: Hermione has turned down all invitations for Christmas and her friends are all worried out of their minds, but what will happen when Draco decides to be her Ghost of the Christmas Past, Present and Yet to come?
1. Part 1 : Christmas Eve

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the copyrighted material mentioned in this Christmas fic. All characters belong to JK Rowling and the basic plotline is originally Charles Dickens'.

**A/N:** Merry Christmas all Harry Potter enthusiasts! This is my little contribution for the holiday spirit; a dramione Christmas story in 5 parts. Hope you'll enjoy it.

* * *

**A Christmas Carol**

.;.The Magical Way.;.

Part 1 .;. Christmas Eve

Christmas Eve had never embodied the infamous Christmas card quite this perfectly before. The air was crisp and cold, turning cheeks and noses a charming rosy red the moment one stepped outside. Snow covered every part of the ground, each individual snowflake resting on top of the other, creating a blanket inches and inches thick. It hung heavily onto the trees, forcing their leaves to droop under the weight. If you listened closely you might even be able to hear small, timid sleigh bells in the snow. There was, however, one thing breaking the flawless image of a winter wonderland. Almost knee-deep in snow, two young people were facing each other, their hands gesturing wildly as their angry voices carried across the otherwise silent landscape.

"I don't know who you think you are," she said angrily and buried her chin even deeper into her scarf, "looking me up on Christmas Eve to insult me. Have you really sunk _that_ low?"

"I didn't mean it as an insult," he replied in exasperation, his arms falling to his sides. "I've heard St. Potter and Weaselbee talk about it around the office for weeks. I know you're celebrating Christmas alone."

Her narrowed eyes widened slightly and her cheeks already red from cold hid any blush that might have occurred due to the misunderstanding.

"So what if I am?" she asked coldly. "The discriminating stereotypes of Christmas say we have to be surrounded by family and friends, because it's the _Christmas spirit_, but I'm an independent person. I can make my own Christmas dinner, and sing the carols while I play the piano. I don't need all the junk about staying together."

He watched her as she raved, silently wondering why on earth he had bothered at all.

"I'm not saying I don't agree," he said. "If we want to spend Christmas alone, we should be allowed to, but I don't think you want it as much as you say you do, Granger."

She just sniffed in disapproval, studying the pattern on her mittens closely.

"Potty and Weasel don't get it, and that's why I'm here. They have wives and small children of their own. Christmas is all about family to them now, and they don't understand how it is to be alone. I do. I, too, turned down their invitation, simply because I'd feel like I was in the way of the happy _family_ gathering."

He could see the wrinkles on her forehead soften slightly.

"And I've listened to them rant about how worried they are that you declined their invitation. They don't understand why, the dimwits. I don't understand how they don't get it. You were supposed to be the one married to Ron, to have his son. You were engaged, for Merlin's sake. And they still don't get why you declined."

"But you think you do," she replied icily, her tone of voice taking him aback. "You think you understand how it is to see your friends celebrate as one, big happy family; the family you were supposed to be a part of! You will never know what a betrayal it feels like, so stop pretending you do."

"I'm alone too, Frosty," he reminded her, glaring icicles her way. "Why can't we be alone together?"

"I don't need your charity," she huffed, tightening the scarf around her neck, "or your ideas of boughs of holly, a figgy pudding and a cup of good cheer."

"How do _you_ know I'm all about the Christmasy stuff?"

"I can tell," she said in disdain, her little nose wrinkled in disgust. "You probably have mistletoe covering the ceilings of your Manor, holly winding itself around the banisters, enchanted reindeers in the garden and your house elves dressed in horrible, uncomfortable elf suits."

"I do enjoy Christmas, and I don't intend to apologise for it," he said, trying to keep back his sigh. "But it's not nearly as enjoyable alone. So please, Granger; will you celebrate it with me?"

For a blissful moment he thought she would relent. He thought her face would light up into a smile and that she'd take his offer with gratitude and keep him company for Christmas. That was until her eyes hardened and her lips stiffened in its grimace.

"Malfoy, I hope you get run over by your damn enchanted reindeer," she spat and turned on her heels.

He watched her stomp away as angrily as she managed in the high snow and sighed heavily. It was the first Christmas since his parents died, and he had no intentions of spending it alone. It was time to bring out the big guns.

.;.

She slammed the door shut, scaring Crookshanks out of his sweet dreams and sent him leaping off the couch in a marvellous display of orange fur. She didn't need Draco Malfoy's pity – or anyone's pity. Christmas had lost its charm years ago, and she didn't need a persistent ex-enemy trying to lull her comfortably into the Christmas cheer again. She wasn't that naive anymore.

If anyone else had entered her home they would be surprised by the lack of decorations. There was no Christmas tree, not even a single needle of a pine anywhere to be spotted. The colours red and green were suspiciously underrepresented. Her parents would be horrified if they knew, but she had turned down their invitation with the excuse of spending Christmas with her friends. Unfortunately, Harry hadn't seemed to buy her story about spending it at her parents', since they were talking about her around the office.

Damn Malfoy. She put herself firmly on the couch by the telly, carefully avoiding the Christmas shows and found an old film instead. It didn't seem to be a Christmas story, so she left it on. A man was sitting in his office, his profession apparently a banker of some sort. He seemed to be treating his employees rather poorly, she noted as Crookshanks leapt onto her lap. She stroked him absently as the film unfolded in front of her. It soon dawned on her that the film _was_ about Christmas after all, as he refused to give one of his employees the day off for Christmas day. She shook her head and stopped paying attention, and instead looked down on Crookshanks purring contentedly in her lap.

"We're fine, you and I, aren't we?" she asked lovingly, rubbing him behind his left ear.

Soon her eyelids seemed to grow heavy and slowly fell shut, her hands still resting on the orange cat in her lap.

And that is how Draco Malfoy found her as he Apparated straight into her living room, his arms crossed over his chest and his cloak billowing eerily. He had charmed it to do just that, and he was rather pleased with the work, to be honest. He was, however, less impressed by the room he had Apparated into. It had been long since he had seen anything less cheery, in fact, it looked somewhat dirty.

He focused his attention on the sleeping Hermione just as her eyes began to flutter open. Within seconds she had jumped from the couch sending Crookshanks flying with an indignant screech.

"What the bloody hell are you doing in my flat, Malfoy, and why are you _transparent_?" she growled, and then sudden worry appeared in her features out of nowhere. "You're not dead, are you?"

"I'm touched by your worry, dear Granger, but it is merely for dramatic effect." He smirked. "You see; I am your Ghost of Christmas Past, Present and Yet to come."

She gaped at him in shock.

"I hate this dream already," she muttered, lowering her wand.

"It's not a dream," he said, enjoying the moment of her dawning horror. "It's time to teach you the values of Christmas."

"Oh, spare me," she snarled, crossing her arms over her chest angrily.

"No can do," he replied, shaking his head sadly. "'tis but my destiny."

She rolled her eyes at his flair for drama, and secretly tried to find a way out of this nightmare.

"As the clock strikes Midnight I will take you on a journey. Well. I'll wave my wand, anyway," he said, smiling merrily. "I've wanted to do this ever since I read that book."

"I am so very_ happy_ to be your chosen victim," she said through gritted teeth, having just found out that he had put Apparition wards on the room. There was no escape.

His reply was interrupted by the first stroke of midnight, and his mouth formed into an excited grin.

"My work begins!"

"Can't we just drop this, Malfoy?" she asked dryly. "The terror it will put us both through will be for nothing. I'll just go back here and have left over take out tomorrow anyway."

He scowled at her before he yanked her towards him by the arm. At the last strike of midnight he waved his wand with a grin and they disappeared from her flat.


	2. Part 2 : The Ghost of Christmas Past

**Disclaimer:** Even if it's the season for Christmas miracles, I am depressingly enough not even close to owning any of this.

**A Christmas Carol**

.;.The Magical Way.;.

Part 2 .;. The Ghost of Christmas Past

The breath caught in her throat the moment the blur suddenly disappeared and her vision regained focus. Malfoy was still gripping her by the arm of her shirt, that bastard. She scowled at him only to find that he was grinning madly at the apparent success of whatever it was he had done to fix this. Cause a success it had to be, since they were now standing in the middle of the Gryffindor dormitories looking at a 17 year old Hermione in her maroon pyjamas bending halfway out of the bed to get to her pile of presents.

Suddenly Malfoy obscured her view and he stood on front of her, his arms flailing around wildly.

"I am the Ghost of Christmas Past!" he howled eerily, giving an additional flail of his arm.

Hermione quirked her eyebrow.

"Really," she replied dryly. "I would never have guessed."

"I have to say it anyway," he shrugged, not looking put down at her lack of enthusiasm at all.

She put up an annoyed expression clearly asking him why in the world he _had_ to say this.

"It comes with the territory of being your Ghost of Christmas Past, Present and Yet to come," he told her, lifting his chin proudly. "That and I've been looking forward to it since I read that damn story. If I didn't do it, a _lot_ of practise in front of the mirror would be for nothing."

She was about to reply, but he cut her off with a gesture towards her younger self. The 17 year old Hermione was attacking the presents with vigour, her smile nearly reaching her ears. So he had managed to establish one thing; she hadn't always hated Christmas. She watched herself unwrap book after book, squealing louder at each one. A moment later she also pulled a Weasley sweater over her head.

Malfoy eyed the growing pile of books on the bed with a slightly disbelieving expression.

"Your friends and family sure has a lot of imagination," he commented dryly.

She couldn't really argue with that. It really wasn't very imaginative, but she had been pleased with it nonetheless.

"I always did love books, so it's a safe choice I suppose," she shrugged, wrapping her arms across her chest.

It was uncomfortable to say the least; to stand there as the person you grew up to be and see the person you used to be. She wasn't even entirely sure it was a positive change. Her old self was naive, yes, but she seemed happy. And she looked healthier, somehow. Perhaps it was the red cheeks.

Her own face suddenly hardened as she watched her younger self hug one of the books tightly to her chest and smile blissfully.

"See how happy you were with that one, Granger," Malfoy commented helpfully, and raised his eyebrows when she gave him a cold stare.

"That was from Ron," she muttered in reply, and followed young Hermione with her eyes when the girl rose from the bed and scurried across the room in her slippers.

"We have to follow," Draco told her quietly when she remained standing on the same spot they had appeared on.

"I really don't think this works the way you hoped it would," she said when she followed him down the dormitory stairs while the Gryffindor common room unfolding beneath them.

If he replied, she wouldn't have heard it. She was much too preoccupied with the horrible pain in her chest at the sight of the familiar worn chairs, the large fireplace and two scrawny boys lounging in their favourite armchairs by said fire. She almost felt like crying when she saw her younger self hurry over to the two boys, hugging each of them in turn as thanks for her presents.

"I miss this place," she whispered, her gaze lingering on every familiar corner.

"It's so typical Gryffindor. All red and _cosy_," Malfoy commented, wrinkling his nose a bit. "And warm. The dungeons always were horribly cold."

It was dreadful to acknowledge the fact that her best years had been here, in this warm, red room with its worn furniture and large, arched windows. Your life wasn't supposed to go downhill from the day you left school. That was when your life was supposed to _start_. You were supposed to keep the friends you made, find a satisfying job and use the knowledge you gained. Why had she failed? Why did these years stand out in her mind as the only ones worth reliving?

She watched herself conjure up three cups of cocoa as Harry and Ron started another game of exploding snap. They were chattering loudly, her tumbling laughter appearing more than once in the short period of time.

Suddenly she became aware of a transparent finger prodding Harry's hair.

"It's very fluffy, isn't it?" Draco asked with a grimace.

She just watched him with arched eyebrows, trying to ignore her young self being very cheery in the company of her best friends. Draco jumped up on the table and walked around as the young Harry and Ron continued playing without noticing a thing.

"You should apply for a position as Hogwarts ghost," Hermione told him, crossing her arms over her chest. "You'd give Peeves a run for his money."

"Being a ghost isn't that bad, actually," he mused as he tried putting his finger in Ron's ear. "I might have to give it some thought once I'm dead."

His attempt to torture Ron – despite the fact that they couldn't be seen or felt – was cut short as the three younger Gryffindors got up from their seats and left the common room.

"Cue next memory," Malfoy said in his pretend-ghost voice and the world once again became unfocused.

She closed her eyes to keep herself from getting queasy, which didn't help at all because the moment she opened them and found the world back in focus she realised what memory she was in and got immediately queasy.

Hermione tried to escape, but Malfoy kept her back with a transparent, yet forceful arm.

"No no," he chastised. "This is not just a cosy trip down memory lane. We have to do the bad stuff too, Granger."

"I don't want to see this," she growled between gritted teeth, hoping to portray that his joke just wasn't funny anymore.

"I'm serious about this, Granger. I am your bloody ghost and I say you have to stay."

He held her in place as the scene she dreaded began to unfold. Ron was talking to her in a hushed voice, but she knew his words by heart. She didn't need to listen, because it was already burned into her memory. When the words rose in volume, she couldn't ignore them anymore.

"I don't know why we bother anymore," Ron yelled, throwing his hands up in the air. "You don't respect what I choose to do with my life, and I frankly don't even _care_ what you do anymore."

"That's right, you don't care," she bit back. "You don't care about me, about us, about our future. All you care about is _you_."

Hermione knew what came next and turned her head as the yelling escalated even further. Malfoy, the ghost of Christmas HELL, could force her to stay, but he couldn't force her to watch or to listen. She pushed her eyes tighter together as she heard the ear-splitting crash. Despite her decision to not watch, she opened her eyes slightly just in time to see Ron's back as he left, slamming the door behind him. Her eyes moved downwards, watching herself fall to the floor as sobs heaved through her body. Next to her old self sobbing the Christmas tree lay tumbled over on the floor, almost every ornament having crashed to the floor and broken into a million pieces.

"That was... worse than I thought," Malfoy said after clearing his throat awkwardly.

Hermione's lips tightened into a thin line and she winced in embarrassment and pain as she heard her younger self howl wolfishly in sorrow.

"I want out," she said through gritted teeth.

"Look, soon you'll probably pick up the pieces of the broken Christmas ornaments, and I find that to be a particularly good symbol of your –"

Hermione had gripped him by the collar of his transparent, billowing cloak and pulled him closer with a snarl.

"I want out of this memory. _Now_!"

"I was under the impression the Ghost was to make those decisions here, but alright," he said, trying to sound unaffected by her blinding anger.

"Cue next memory..."

**A/N:**Thanks to all reviewers :D You make me very very happy.

And yes, both characters are probably very OOC, but ... I wanted it this way, so that's the way I wrote it. And I wanted Draco to be the Ghost, so therefore Hermione has to be the bitter person having to be rescued. So that's why it ended up with the roles kind of switched around.

Sorry it's taking a few days to update. Had some Holiday stuff to attend of my own. ;)


	3. Part 3 : The Ghost of Christmas Present

**Disclaimer: **The characters aren't mine to give away. Sorry, you have to wish for something else for Christmas.

**A Christmas Carol**

.;.The Magical Way.;.

Part 3 .;. The Ghost of Christmas Present

Hermione realised quickly she was in the Present, but oddly enough it wasn't by Malfoy's declaration about being her Ghost of Christmas Present – he was only glaring in her general direction. She glanced quickly at Harry and Ron with their families, celebrating Christmas together at Godric's Hollow before she turned her attention to Malfoy. He was standing with his arms crossed over his chest, looking extremely offended.

"Malfoy, just get it over with." She sighed, rolling her eyes at what was about to come.

"hmpf!" was all he uttered, his chin raising defiantly.

"Stop being such a childish git, Malfoy," she huffed in annoyance. "You started this whole thing!"

He still remained still, ignoring her attempts to quicken the process. She heaved an enormous sigh and fought the urge to slap him across the face.

"You are my Ghost of ... what was it again?" she coaxed, touching her finger lightly to her chin in mock thoughtfulness.

He muttered something under his breath, still not unfolding the arms crossing over his chest.

"I'm sorry. I didn't hear you," she said, allowing a grin to touch her lips.

"I'm your Ghost of Christmas Present," he almost yelled, flapping his arms lamely a couple of times.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" she asked, impatience tearing at her calm voice. "Now, get on with whatever idiocy you have planned for this memory."

Malfoy stepped forwards and she noticed then that they were outside, the snow falling around them in gigantic flakes painting the picture of the perfect Christmas. She eyed him wearily as he stepped up towards the window, gazing in at the large, happy family celebrating together.

"It's not a memory," he explained, urging her forwards.

She remained where she stood a few steps behind him, looking in through the window now, unable to tear her gaze away.

"This is the present. Or, it's very close to the present," he corrected, smiling self-satisfied. "It's what your friends will be doing tomorrow."

"What, are you psychic?" she asked acerbically.

"When it comes to Potty and Weaselbee, I might as well be. They're so predictable it takes away half the fun."

She didn't answer. Instead, she stepped closer to the window, her eyes locked on the scene inside. The lighting in Harry's living room cast a warm glow over the smiling occupants and she watched as Ron fussed over his two year old son, whose beaming face was lighting up the room. Her face set in a scowl as Lavender sat down beside the two; her face alit with an adoring smile. Malfoy certainly had gone overboard with the idyllic family portrayal, that was for sure. It was horribly overdone, and yet she knew that the true happenings tomorrow wouldn't be far from it. And that was what she couldn't bear, wasn't it? How could they be so unbearably happy without her?

She swallowed, determined not to show him that he had actually gotten to her. She had been stirred enough by the memory of Ron leaving. It wasn't even that she wanted Ron anymore; it was more that they had never really noticed how miserable she was. It was the fact that their lives could be so blissful when she wasn't in it.

"Gee, that looks like so much fun. Maybe I should join them tomorrow after all," she said then, trying to cover up her troubled thoughts.

She watched his reaction out of the corner of her eye. He swallowed visibly, his eyes darting to the scene inside before looking back at her.

"Look, that's clearly not a good idea," he said, his voice smooth. "You wouldn't want to be the odd one out, would you?"

His calm reply didn't fool her one bit. This whole scheme was of course not to make her go to Harry's tomorrow, but to make her spend Christmas with him at the Manor instead. Whoever said Draco Malfoy wasn't delusional? No one, that's who.

"Well fine, I see what you're saying here. They're having a good time celebrating without me. But I don't see where you're going with this," she exclaimed then as she watched Harry's son James tear open the wrapper on his present.

"Allow me to escort you to the next instalment," he answered with a silly bow.

"Ugh," was her eloquent reply.

"Cue next memory!" he declared, his pretend ghost-voice back in place.

She rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the dizzying sensation as her vision blurred and was replaced with something else entirely. She shook her head to clear her mind a bit and then took in the image of her own flat – or she figured that was what it was supposed to be anyway. The flat looked much more dirty and gloomy than it was in reality, and she jolted in fright when something gigantic scurried across her floor.

"What was that?!" she cried, backing up even if she knew it couldn't see or touch her.

He looked at her with a quirked eyebrow.

"Your colossal freak show of a cat, of course."

To his surprise, she guffawed with laughter.

"Malfoy, Crookshanks is one third of the size of that _thing_," she said, her tone amused for the first time that night. "And I know my flat isn't particularly cheery, but it's not this bad."

"Well, you're seeing things through my eyes," he told her with a shrug.

He stood in the middle of the floor as if waiting for something, and she eyed him suspiciously from her place further back. She wondered if her place really looked this disgusting to him. Her eyes followed his gaze and just when she began to fidget with impatience something horrifying shuffled across the floor of her living room.

Hermione was by his side in three steps and she whacked him upside the head with the palm of her hand, her eyebrows set in a scowl.

"_Ow_," he yelled, holding a transparent hand to the back of his head. "What was that for?!"

"I do _not_ look like that!" she cried, pointing at the image of her very shabby looking self grabbing a box of her left over take out from the fridge.

"Yes, you do," he insisted, holding a hand out towards her shabby mirror. "The hair. The worn-out clothes. The moping."

"Okay, first of all... I never let my hair get that bad. And so what if I like to wear old, comfortable clothes around the house? And is my moping not my own...business?"

Her voice had faded at the end, realising that her tirade to explain that she was nothing like that, had turned into a defence of why she was exactly like that.

"This is your Christmas, Granger," he said, holding his hand in a gesturing motion towards her poufy-haired self in sweatpants. "This is your Christmas Present."

His cloak billowed in emphasis.

She scowled in defence.

"So...what?!"

"Is this what you want?"

She looked at herself falling heavily onto the couch and the mutant Crookshanks jumped onto her lap, looking unbearably heavy. Her other self began shuffling down the contents of the box, the only sound was her slurping and Crookshanks' mutant purr.

"Yes," she said defiantly, raising her chin. "Yes, I do want that."

Malfoy rolled his eyes at her stubbornness.

"Then I have to take you to the Christmas yet to come."

"Oh Merlin, please, Malfoy, just let me get the hell out of here."

"No can do." He grinned. "I'm enjoying this too much."

"Sadistic bastard."

"Always."

"Get it over with fast, at least."

Draco's transparent hand petted the mutant Crookshanks before straightening up, his cloak billowing around him once again.

"Cue next memory!"

* * *

**A/N: **Here I am again! I lost my inspiration for this story last Christmas, and come February it didn't seem very natural to finish it anymore. But the holidays are upon us once again, so expect the remaining 2 parts coming up soon enough :D

I forgot how much fun this one was to write!


	4. Part 4 The Ghost of Christmas Yet

**Disclaimer:** Rowling was greedy this Christmas and would not share ownership of Harry Potter. The nerve!

**A Christmas Carol**

.;.The Magical Way.;.

Part 4 .;. The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come

Knowing what to expect, she closed her eyes patiently and stood with them closed until she felt the tip of Malfoy's finger poke her shoulder. Smirking inwardly, she kept her eyes closed, giving no sign of having noticed him. This time, he poked her twice, the last one a sharp jab in her upper arm. She wanted to chuckle, but bit her lip to not give away her reaction.

"I AM…" he suddenly yelled in her ear, and her eyes shot open in surprise just in time to see him run around in her flat, flapping his transparent hands while willing his cloak to billow even more, "THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS YET TO COOOME."

She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him in exasperation.

"A bit overkill, don't you think?"

"It's my last chance," he reasoned, a slight pout forming on his lip as he came to rest next to her again.

She didn't answer him, since her gaze had dropped to something lying sprawled on the floor. Her mouth fell open and she recoiled in disgust, her mind willing her to look away. She just couldn't. Her eyes were transfixed on the figure on the floor.

"You sick bastard!"

Malfoy met her enraged gaze with a calm demeanour, the playful look in his eyes now completely gone.

"You rotten, deranged bastard," she breathed, her eyes once again pulled toward the figure on the floor, one that was definitely herself, but years older.

"We're all going to die, Granger," he said, his voice softer than what he usually displayed. "If you continue down this path, this is how it will happen for you."

"What do you mean?"she enquired, not bothering to hide her distress anymore.

Her voice was thick with the tears building. She noticed a cat resembling Crookshanks sitting next to her older self's body, making distressed sounds, pawing her desperately. The lump in her throat increased.

"If you continue to shut people out of your life, you'll die alone, Granger. I'm not trying to be a heartless git here; I'm being as honest as I can. If you continue to shut Potter and Weasley and their families out, they'll eventually stop trying. And all you'll have left is Crookshanks the fifth."

He watched her as she breathed heavily, tears forming in her eyes as she stared transfixed at the scene in front of her. Finally, he had pushed a button, but now he didn't know if he was prepared for the reaction it would cause.

"Oh my God," she said with a tremble in her voice, and she fell to her knees on the floor.

"Granger?"

He put a tentative hand on her shoulder, but she didn't even flinch against his touch.

"I'm sorry, Granger, I didn't think about how rattling this would be, I..."

"No," she suddenly said with sudden force. "You're right."

"Uh...what?"

He looked at her, his eyebrows knitted in a frown, never having known she even knew how to string those words together to make the sentence.

"You're right," she said, pushing herself up from the floor, causing his hand to fall limply from her shoulder. "You're absolutely right. Maybe it's too late..."

He shook his head vigorously, making his transparent hair bounce against his forehead.

"It's not, which is why I made an alternate future for you to see."

"Wait," she said softly, when he was about to move them to another reality.

He looked at her quizzically, watching her as she stared at her older self.

"I died alone?" she asked, fighting the panic lodged in her stomach.

"Yes."

"And Crookshanks the fifth is the only one who found me?"

"Yes."

She let out a rattling breath.

"You have to remember that I'm not clairvoyant, Granger. This is me trying to tell you that pushing people away means that you will eventually succeed. And when you do succeed, there'll be no one there."

"But it's not too late?" Hermione asked, thoughts whirling inside her head now after the numbness of panic had receded slightly.

"Merlin, no," he replied, smirking. "This was only one of the futures I plan to show you."

She nodded slowly, removing her gaze from the upsetting image on the floor, fixing it then on him in his transparent form. She took a deep breath – and then launched herself at him, beating her fists against his chest while snarls of anger bubbled up through her throat.

"_ow_," he cried, trying to grab her wrists unsuccessfully. "Ow! Calm the hell down, Granger, I'm not actually a ghost; you're frigging hurting me."

"That's what I'm trying to do!" she hissed between gritted teeth, punching his shoulder.

He cried out again and darted in the opposite direction, prompting her to follow him while lashing out against him. She got in occasional hits as she chased him around, his indignant yells bouncing off the walls.

"I can't believe you showed me my own dead body!" she bellowed, punching him so hard in the back that he fell over.

He managed to turn around just in time to avoid getting his nose crushed to the floor. Tumbling onto his back with a thud, he grabbed her leg and pulled her down to the floor with him. She trashed in his grip, angry snarls erupting from her throat again.

"I'm sorry it was upsetting, but at least I got a reaction out of you at last!" he said, managing to decrease her writhing. "At least you're not being numb and cold anymore. You're actually showing some normal reactions for once."

With that she sat up at once, her anger evaporated. He was right. When was the last time she had been truly angry? Truly, all-consumingly angry? Angry, without trying to suppress it and forget it? She felt his grip on her foot loosen and she took a deep breath, feeling her emotions clearer than she had in years. How long had she been this numb?

"So there is another memory?" she asked, watching him lay sprawled on the floor in his weird semi-transparent form.

"If you want it," he replied, pushing up on his elbows.

"What's in it?"

"You celebrating Christmas with Potter and Weasley and their family. You and your little daughter."

"You gave me a daughter?" she asked incredulously, her mind reeling with images of a future that had seemed so far away for so long.

"Yeah, why not?" he enquired, looking at her with raised eyebrows. "If you truly did change and let people back in your life, why wouldn't you let someone in enough to start your own family?"

"Who's her father?" she asked, almost afraid of the answer.

"Like I've said, I'm not psychic. I didn't give her a father," he answered dryly, pushing himself up from the floor and holding his hand out to her. "Would you like to see it?"

She took his hand and moved from the floor, dusting herself off. She looked up at him with her eyebrows knitted in a frown.

"No, I don't think so," she said slowly.

She gave no reasons, and he didn't push her for them.

"Right, then. I'll just take you home."

She noticed the melancholy in his voice, and she smiled at the small pout forming on his lips.

"You're sad it's over, aren't you?" she said, laughing merrily at his sullen expression.

"Well, being a ghost is way more fun than I imagined. Aside from the physical assault part."

"Maybe you can take this up as a fulltime job," she suggested jokingly, trying not to look at the figure sprawled on the floor next to them.

"Not too bad of an idea, Granger," he replied, and then noticed her unease. "Let's go back."

The world once again turned unfocused before her eyes and within seconds the same image of her flat, but without the rotting corpse on the floor. Once she opened her eyes, she saw the flat through Malfoy's eyes. Moderately clean, but dusty. Void of anything that could resemble Holiday cheer. It was void of emotion, just like she was.

The clock struck midnight and she raised her eyebrow in question.

"See, we weren't even gone for a minute," he said proudly, tapping his chest.

"I saw you turn it back," she stated dryly. "It's 2 AM."

He glared at her, and she rolled her eyes in return.

"Stop ruining the fun," he said sullenly, suddenly rocketing backwards as Crookshanks came hurtling out from beside the couch.

"Go home, Malfoy," she said exasperatedly as she lifted Crookshanks into her arms.

He glared at Crookshanks, lifted the Apparition wards and Disapparated seconds later.

**A/N: **part 4 is complete, and the only thing left is part 5! I'm planning to have that done in a couple of days, even if this took longer than expected.

Thanks for all the reviews :D


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